To Kill Or Not To Kill That Was The Question.

"Be careful what you say."

"For anything from how you speak to your education level can be understood from how you talk."

"And not only from the way you speak."

"But what you understand and don't understand."

"For there are certain things that only someone with a high level of experience or education would know."

"Especially in the implied meanings that litter the conversations around politics and knowledge a commoner would know, and the knowledge a man of influence or noble birth would know."

Baron Rahler Rushe, Lord of Waeldestone in the Kingdom of Rinada.

…..

'Bloody rain, why the fuck did this have to happen while there's a rainstorm!'

A man of 5 feet 10 inches complained as he rode across the dirt road, which looked more like a muddied pit than a road.

Baron Rahler Rushe complained internally, cursing the appalling weather that was all too common in Great Britain, and was riding towards Tregaron, one of three villages within his small domain whose main exports were salt and fish. His clenched fists held the reins to his horse after years of war; the baron, in his mid-thirties, was looking forward to a nice, easy life.

Yet now he had to leave the comfort of his castle to travel in the blasted rain that even now began to let cold seep into his body, reminding him of his days on campaign when he had to march in such harsh conditions.

He even came to an agreement with the raiders that came to plunder his land, meaning that he did not have to deal with them and waste his resources fending them off, ensuring that his precious warships were safe from attack. Otherwise, he would need to send far more men than the 20 currently stationed there, more than enough to deal with most pirates as they were nowhere near as organised as raiders from the Grand Duchy of Ubernoss and The Shole Alliance.

Those damn waterborne Larintines don't even need to use boats and can just appear from the sea, making them a particularly problematic existence as they can come and go from the sea at will!

While most of the people of the Shole Alliances worked as merchants, using their mastery of the sea to conduct trade over the sea, becoming some of the greatest merchants in the world, there were still some who took to piracy, plundering the shores and ships of others and selling their ill-gotten gains for a living.

Because of their mercantile nature, the Shole Alliance had not had to fight a war in the last 50 years, showing how terrifyingly strong their diplomacy was. 

Like the British Empire of old, they regularly used their vast wealth to help finance wars against anyone looking to take hostile actions against them. They used the hatred and competing interests between bordering nations to influence them into fighting each other instead of the Shole Alliance.

 They even often made a nice profit from the war by selling food, arms, and armour to both sides. 

Though these Larintines would have little to no armour, and there was the risk of being eaten by sharks and other great predators that roam the seas, they could still pop out of the sea at any time, stuffing their magically waterproofed bags full of goods before disappearing into the sea again.

This made their existence very troublesome, to the point that bribing them was less hassle than dealing with their random attacks. By the time you mobilised your men against them, they had already returned to the ocean, nowhere to be seen.

Just when everything was going well, a heroic idiot appeared and threw a spanner into the works, destabilising the once-peaceful situation.

The captain of a small group of mercenaries just had to intervene and, worse, rout and annihilate the raiders like they were fish in a barrel.

Worse, now Rahler himself has to move to ensure that none of his dirty deals become public knowledge, as who knows what captured raiders would tell that mercenary group and how they would decide to use it.

It was obvious that someone influential was behind them as the caravan they were guarding had a small fortune, and if the mercenary captain decided to give the baron's secret to his mysterious backer.

 They would be able to hold a knife to his throat and essentially ask for anything they wanted, which would be very troublesome for Rahler.

It was so much money that the baron was surprised that no one had yet tried to raid the caravan and was even somewhat tempted to make a move against them himself.

Reflecting on his selfish intentions and now seeing these guards deal with these raiders as if they were nothing but a fly to them, he was glad that he had not made any moves against them, as it was unknown whether he would be able to win or not.

After all, he was reluctant to take on the raiders because of their number, so attacking the people who killed them while taking only a few casualties was madness in the baron's eyes.

Which made him ask one vital question.

Who were these people?

What was their background?

What did they want in Rinada?

Why did they decide to only meddle with the raiders and no one else?

Who was their mysterious backer who could afford to form a caravan with 30,000 gold worth of goods?

All these questions and more flashed through Baron Rahler's mind as he absentmindedly rode towards the village accompanied by his knights and men at arms. He was confident not only in their loyalty and discretion but also in their combat prowess.

However, if the baron knew the answer to these questions, then he may faint.

For the truth was that Railius did this to blooden his men and give them more practical experience on the battlefield.

So all of this hassle he suffered was because someone wanted to go on a training exercise and give his men combat experience.

If the baron knew this, he may just strike the young man down now out of anger!

After all, most of his knights were experts and soldiers adept, having gone through the fires of the last war with him, which the kingdom was still recovering from as it took years to replace the population and stock up on supplies lost when fighting another country.

There was also the fact that militia soldiers had little practical use apart from padding out their numbers or being used as cannon fodder to help fill in moats and deal with other defensive measures his enemies may have prepared.

When they were 5 minutes away from the village, the baron and his men could hear the battle cries of soldiers as they hacked and slashed each other to death.

The familiar ring of clashing steel reminded them of the battlefields of the past, and the death throes still seem to echo in their ears even now, years after the fact.

When they crested the ridge and looked at the fishing village, the scene they witnessed shocked them to their core: a slight shiver that was not the cold rain running down their back.

Because, unlike the struggle they were expecting, it was a one-sided slaughter as one side attacked with impeccable teamwork while the other was cut down as if they were a rabble of untrained peasants.

"Bloody hell, those aren't soldiers, their demons!"

One of the barons' knights said, a bead of sweat running down his face as he watched the disguised Pelican Guard attack like a machine, brushing off wounds like paper cuts as they skillfully cut down the raiders who fell like wheat to the scythe.

He saw one man with a halberd fighting two men at once, stabbing one man with the sharpened tip of his deadly weapon before spinning and slashing the other one who tried to attack him from behind while he was killing his comrade.

"Come on, you bastards!"

A giant-like man shouted. Filled with battle lust, he used his large tower shield to knock someone to the ground while bashing another man with his Morningstar. The large man's great strength forced the raider to the ground, and in the blink of an eye, his shield was bashed away from his chest, and the large spiked ball embedded itself into the unfortunate raider's skull.

The brutality of this giant man disturbed even some of the war veterans, who could not forget the look of pure joy on Norfaelors face as he brought his Morningstar down on the head of his enemy, scattering his brains across the cobbled stone that made up the centre of the village the storm still spitting rain on the battlefield soaking both sides as blood formed small streams and disappeared into the stormy sea and its violent waves.

A sword then slashed at the large man's back, leaving a large bloody gash, but Norfaelor shrugged it off. The adrenaline pumping through his body numbed the pain as he sent the offending raider flying with a bash of his huge shield, wielding his large morning star and shield as if they were a sword and buckler.

These demonic soldiers seemed to ignore the rain as they slaughtered the raiders and cut down their enemies, their swords and spears smeared with the blood of their enemies. Even those who dropped their weapons or attempted to surrender were brutally cut down with no mercy whatsoever shown to the raiders.

However, two men among the group showed no expression: the Baron and the short man beside him, who was resting a Warhammer on his shoulder. One was a politician who could end a man's life with the flourish of a pen, and the other was because of his life experience fighting all manner of people and beasts over his 60-year-long lifetime.

Baron Rahler Rushe coldly gazed upon the battlefield, a ruthless glint in his eye as he noted the intelligence of this young captain or, should he say, the knowledge this young captain had.

For the middle-aged noble believed there was a reason why these mercenaries took no prisoners.

Because the mercenaries knew his secret.

The best evidence any man could wish for if they wanted to expose the baron for his crimes was to get a confession from one of the raiders, yet now this crucial piece of evidence was washed away in the thunderstorm that engulfed the small village. 

If they wanted to expose his secret, they would not do such a thing as killing all the raiders and taking no prisoners, essentially tying up all the loose ends the baron was worried about.

Only one word then crossed the mind of the ruthless baron who was prepared to kill everyone here to keep his secret, which is why he even brought his most trusted retainer with him.

A master fighter by the name of Fokhod Emberhelm, a dwarf who had been his friend and comrade for many years after he saved the man's life while travelling through one of the dwarven kingdoms.

And now the Barons greatest military asset.

"My lord, we need to be careful."

Fokhod said darkly, sensing a powerful presence that could only mean one thing if it were to make the 40-year-old dwarf feel threatened.

"For I am not the only master fighter around these parts."

Fokhod continued as he nodded in the direction of Aldorus, who stood proudly on his horse, gazing over the village, his eyes locked on a figure in the melee, not noticing the gazes of the two men who now watched him with caution neither had any doubt of why he was here.

He was here at the behest of the mercenary group backer, or maybe he himself led this small group.

Either possibility did not bode well for the two as the situation had just become a lot more complicated.

As the two talked and pondered the brutal battle filled with the indignation of the souls of the slain, they finally fell silent as a bolt of thunder crackled in the sky as if to herald the end of the engagement.

"Well, let's go meet these 'mercenaries' then."

The baron said he no longer believed that they were only mercenaries but instead believed that they were a group of elite soldiers belonging to a noble house.

An assessment that was not wrong in the slightest.

The only thing wrong with the barons was that the Pelican Guard, even the new recruits, were far from ordinary.

Especially these recruits who had been learning to fight since they were children like the Spartans of old.

 "Ah, my lord, baron, how are you?"

"We're just….

"AAAHHH!"

finishing up here."

Railius said, wincing slightly at the death cry as he looked at the baron with a slight smile. Still slightly breathless from the battle, he was interrupted mid-sentence by the scream of another raider who was impaled by a spear. He knew who the approaching man was from the banners that fluttered in the story winds, depicting a red dragon.

It was obviously a coat of arms and sigel of a noble house.

There was only one person close enough to respond so quickly to his movements and who had the guts and ability to face off with him and his men directly.

Baron Rushe himself, the liege lord of these villagers.

And a man who was not amused.

After all, the other local lords would have been intimidated by their show of strength and stayed well away from them.

It was just a shame that they had to reveal their strength as it complicated things.

Now, they would be investigated, but it's not like anyone would find anything out of the ordinary. At best, they would find out that Aldorus was a master fighter, so good was the cover that Baron Malwin had made for Railius before he left for the Kingdom of Rinada.

And the Pelican Guard commander was more than capable of coming up with a story to legitimise his presence.

"Did they say anything to you?"

The baron inquired, wanting to know if his secret had been leaked. If it had, he would have to quickly silence these mercenaries no matter what, even if he died in the process.

"Sorry, my lord, did you say something?"

Railius shouted, a crackle of thunder and the pouring rain making it hard to hear, but Railius heard the question loud and clear. The eccentric young lord just wanted to have a little fun at the baron's expense.

"Carnt hear properly the weather, you know!"

Railius shouted casually again.

'This little shit!'

Baron Rahler thought, cursing Railius as every noble who had ever met him had before. It would become a common occurrence, but people would eventually get used to the casual mannerisms of the head of House Aurellion.

This one trait would remain whether the leaders of House Aurellion became lords, kings, or even emperors in the future.

'Seems the boy is smart after all.'

Baron Rahler thought, smiling as that one sentence made it clear that not only did the young captain before him hear what he said, but he understood the baron's implied meaning as well and better from his actions of killing all the witnesses except for the few frightened villagers he showed his intent to keep the barons secret.

'It's a shame that as good as he is at playing the game, he still leaves traces behind.'

The baron thought that for someone of the young captain's age, someone with a high level of education would be required to understand his implied meaning, as even some geniuses may not understand the full implications of this question unless they had the proper education.

A noble's education.

In one sentence, because he was too smart for his own good, this young man had revealed his background.

Something he had gone to painstakingly long lengths to conceal

He was still too green. He was only 8 and 10 years old, after all.

Especially as only nobles or someone of influence would have the resources or the capability to put a master by the young man's side to watch over him.

Baron Rahler had watched the other master fighter that Fokhod had identified, and not once had his eyes left the young man. He was concentrated to the point that he did not even notice their arrival or the presence of another powerhouse like him nearby.

It meant that he was there for one reason and one reason only.

To protect the young man who seemed to lead one side of the battle.

Now, all there was to do was decide.

Decide what to do now.

To kill or not to kill, that was the question.